


well, your boyfriend's an asshole

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Chubby Josh, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: Josh's boyfriend has a problem with the way he looks. Tyler, however, does not.





	well, your boyfriend's an asshole

Josh didn't think he'd notice. Didn't think he'd _care_.

But he did notice. And he did care. He cared a lot, actually- and not in a positive way, either. This was the opposite of positivity. This was negativity so strong that it made Josh want to throw up or disappear or die.

It's not like any of this had been intentional in the first place. And by 'this' I mean the fact that he was no longer the lean, nimble athlete from high school. Maybe it was because he just didn't have time for sports anymore. Maybe he'd rather sleep in than go running at eight in the morning. Or maybe he just preferred pizza to protein shakes and lettuce and shit.

Whatever the reason: "lean" and "nimble" were no longer all that accurate when it came to describing him. Namely because the toned torso had been replaced by a soft, pale stomach; soft thighs and arms were also part of the deal, apparently.

Everything was just _softer_ , is the bottom line. And he really didn't think much of it at first. In fact, he sort of enjoyed it- this felt more comfortable, more snug. This felt just right.

Except, no, it wasn't any of those things. Not to his boyfriend, at least. 

The bastard was quick to sit Josh down and make him feel like shit. Because he claimed that he _missed_ the lean, nimble, athletic boy from high school. The one with the borderline abs and razor-sharp jaw and flat stomach. The one without the pudgy middle and thighs and arms.

Not this chubby mess.

So Josh sat there, listening to all of this and repeating three words in his head like a mantra: _not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry-_

And then came the final slap in the face, the stinging blow, the straw that broke the camel's back:

"I'm not interested in dating you anymore, is what I'm trying to say. Not when you look... Not when you look like _this_."

And that's when the waterworks started churning behind Josh's eyes. _That's_ when he was practically choking on the lump in his throat, because this couldn't be happening. Shouldn't be happening. 

So he begged. Begged and begged and _begged_. "Oh, god, please- please don't do this. Please. Pleasepleaseplease. I'll lose the weight, I'll go to the gym, I'll look like I did back then-"

"Get real, Dun. You're not gonna do any of that shit. You're just desperate."

It was true. Josh _was_ desperate. And really, how could you blame him? He had been dating the guy for three years, just for it to all go to hell over a couple of extra pounds.

His world was crashing down around him, and all he could do was sit there and hate himself while his (ex)boyfriend just stared, oh-so repulsed. Upper lip curled. Arms crossed. Disgust. So much disgust.

Josh thought he was going to be sick, but figured throwing up would make him seem grosser than he already was and swallowed down the nausea coming up his throat.

And then the words "you can leave now" were being growled, low and disgusted and threatening. So he left.

He got up and left.

And all he could think about as he dragged himself across the room to the door, judgmental eyes burning holes into the back of his skull, was how fucking gross he was.

He damned how his thighs brushed as he walked. Damned how soft his stomach was. Most of all, he damned _himself_ , because this was his fault, wasn't it?

_All your fault. All your fault. Allyourfault._

He didn't even realize he was crying until he got back to the dorm; when his roommate Tyler opened the door, he was greeted with the harrowing sight of a pink-faced, sniffling, shameful Josh Dun. And his heart ached.

"Josh?" he breathed, frozen and helpless in the threshold, because he had _never_ seen the guy like this. And by 'this' I mean trembling and choking on his own goddamn tears, cheeks flushed and damp with self-hatred.

Josh didn't reply for a good moment, wiping desperately at his eyes with the back of one shaky hand and cursing how pathetic he probably looked. More pathetic than usual, at least. 

Quite the feat.

Receiving nothing but strangled sniffles and wheezing, Tyler tried again: "Josh, honey..? What happened?"

"H-he-" Josh blubbered, squeezing his eyes violently shut when he felt a fresh wave of tears building up behind them, threatening to break free. Because he knew once he started sobbing, he wouldn't be able to stop. And it's not like Tyler needed this bullshit, anyway.

"Shh, shh," his roommate soothed, reaching out to web his piano fingers with Josh's own and murmur softly, "Let's head inside, okay? Come on."

Josh found himself too exhausted (emotionally and physically) to argue, allowing himself to be tugged oh-so gently out of the hallway and past the threshold; then he was being guided to Tyler's bed, where he was sat down at its foot.

Tyler was quick to settle down beside him, their fingers still snugly entwined. He didn't seem keen on letting go anytime soon, and Josh, who found comfort in the safety and simplicity of it, was grateful for that.

Instead of voicing his gratitude, he sniffled and hiccuped and coughed; Tyler used his free hand to rub and pat Josh's shuddering back, mumbling soft and wispy words in his ear all the while: "Shh, just breathe, J. I'm right here, okay? Right here."

As if to prove his point, he squeezed Josh's hand. There was the shaky ghost of a smile, and then a weak squeeze in response.

After a few more minutes of honeyed syllables and soothing touches, Josh had scraped together enough courage to choke out five broken words: "H-he broke up with me."

"Oh, Josh," Tyler breathed, half of him overwhelmed with sympathy. And the other half? _Anger_. Complete, unbridled rage. Because how fucking dare that bastard dump Josh Dun, of all people? The sweetest guy on the face of the Earth, the one that would sooner die than step on a flower, the one with so much love to give that he was practically bursting with it?

Who the fuck would break up with _him?_ Not someone in their right mind, that's for sure.

But Tyler knew that voicing his fury would only upset Josh further, so he put a lid on it for the time being and murmured, "I'm so sorry, J. Did he tell you why? Unless- unless you don't really want to talk about it. Which is fine."

And just like that Josh was back in that room again, repulsed eyes picking him apart, _ripping_ him apart. And he could do nothing but sit there, helpless, vulnerable, ashamed.

He saw the curled lip. He saw the crossed arms.

The disgust.

God, if only he could forget the disgust.

It barely registered that Tyler was staring at him, wide-eyed and worried, when he whispered, "He thinks- well, I- he doesn't like the... the way I look."

_"I'm not interested in dating you anymore, is what I'm trying to say. Not when you look... Not when you look like this."_

Eyelids squeezed shut. Defeated. Ashamed. Oh, god, he was so ashamed.

He wasn't sure what he had expected from Tyler. Nothing, maybe. Radio silence. 

Whatever he had expected, it wasn't arms around him, protecting him, holding him oh-so close. His eyes fluttered open so he could look up at Tyler; the hellish anger on his roommate's face stunned him: eyes glinted, teeth gritted, and he was being held closer than ever when Tyler growled, "That's- my god, that's fucked up. _He's_ fucked up. I oughta... Fuck, I oughta teach that asshole a lesson."

"No, Tyler, I- just don't worry about it, okay?" Josh pleaded in a croaky whisper. "Please. He's right, anyway. I'm fucking gross and that's that. Just- just _please_ don't... Don't pick a fight or something. I don't want you getting hurt. Promise me you won't do anything stupid?"

The desperation swamping his words made Tyler hesitate. While kicking his ex-boyfriend's ass seemed the most appealing right now, the last thing he wanted was to upset Josh any further. Which is why, after a moment of trying to dial back his rage, he sighed and mumbled a soft "I promise."

"Thank you," Josh exhaled, the desperation turning to relief as he leaned against Tyler, head resting gratefully on his shoulder and eyelids gliding shut.

And for a good minute they just sat there at the foot of that bed, breathing in sync with Tyler's arms wrapped snug around Josh's soft middle- the very thing that his ex-boyfriend had criticized him about. _Humiliated_ him about.

That's when Tyler murmured, "Hey, Josh? Look at me."

And he did, raising his head to blink up at him with a small sniffle.

"He was wrong, you know. Whatever he told you? About the way you look? It was wrong. Wanna know why?"

Josh just stared; before he could protest, tell Tyler that he was just as disgusting as the bastard had made him out to be, he felt piano hands gently squeeze his pudgy tummy. He stiffened before realizing that it had been with fondness, not degradation; Tyler's words, hummed soft and warm, were just as fond:

"Because, no matter what that asshole said, you're pretty as hell."

Josh, cheeks immediately going the most glorious shade of pink, hid his face in a grinning Tyler's shoulder and squeaked, "You're just saying that."

"Am I?" Tyler huffed; a grin played on his mouth when Josh peered shyly up at him, pink-faced and bashful and disbelieving. "I mean, hey, for what it's worth: I think your tummy is adorable."

With that Tyler gave it another soft, loving squeeze that did little to help the pinkness of Josh's face; when he hid it in Tyler's chest, practically purring, he felt fingertips gently ghost soft thighs- "What'd I tell you? You're fuckin' beautiful, J. That bastard didn't know what he was talking about."

And it would take awhile, but eventually, Josh would start to believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> no offense but i actually wanna fucking die lmao,, tonight has been worse than usual and i?? scratched up my stomach really bad and i regret it now because it fucking hURTS,,
> 
> nice going em you fucking idiot


End file.
